A Lick and a Promise
by GuruGaddy
Summary: When you unite a testy trailing cowboy and a virtuous farming saloon girl you can be sure the duo will be an odd one. The Old West is a dangerous place and these two will have to work together if they don't want to end up in the bone orchard by morning. [Western AU] [Hiatus]
1. Showtime

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**Showtime**

* * *

The curtain drew back and she was revealed. Her appearance was met with a din of whooping and shrill wolf whistles. Her mouth was already stretched into a dazzling grin as she watched her audience of vagabonds and misfits and the common day folk. This was a time of day when they could all gather and no one would give a damn whose shoulder their arm was slung around- not on this hour, not in this saloon. Not when it was Chelsea the Grand Granger's night to dance.

She stood with a hand on her hip and one leg jutting out, poised for the beginning of the routine. She waited a moment and then right on cue she heard the familiar sound of the piano. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a neat head of blonde hair below the stage. She struggled to contain a snort. _That Will, he always has to start flashy._

She heard the piano notes go up in pitch as Will dragged his fingers across the ivory keys. And then the tune began. It was jaunty and undeniably catchy.

This was the moment she began to dance. With a sharp kick of her leg she launched herself into a series of spritely dance steps, her dress ruffles swirling with every movement. The occasional flash of undergarments here and there had the men cheering loudly. One man even called out a declaration of love. Chelsea laughed happily and made sure to give him an exaggerated wink in-between her spins.

Now the stage was not so empty. Two other girls had skipped into the limelight, raising their skirts high as they appeared. The cheers grew louder. The routine was in full swing and all spirits were on a high. Almost all spirits.

Over by the bar, she saw a man hunched over his drink with a disgruntled scowl upon his face. That certainly wouldn't do. Chelsea hated nothing more than a huffer on her Saturday night shift.

So like always she decided to take the matter into her own hands and do something about it.

"Angela, Molly," She called to the girls beside her. They saw Chelsea jerk her head towards the brooding man and perform a spinning motion with her finger. Instantly they knew what she wanted to do. The two girls shared a tiny grin between themselves before following Chelsea's lead.

In one fluid motion the blue eyed dancer leapt from the stage onto the nearest table, triggering a stream of exuberant shouts from the surrounding men. She tapped her feat against the wood to the rhythm of the music as she flew from table to table, sparing a small jig for each stop. It was quite miraculous she didn't fall off considering how rickety the furniture was.

She finally reached her destination, finishing the journey with a small hop onto the floor. She was by the bar now, right next to the tetchy-looking man. She approached him without caution and tapped him on the shoulder. Nearby she saw her fellow workmates doing the same to some other gents.

"What's your name sir?" Chelsea asked genially.

He didn't look up from his position over the bar, nor did he reply. So Chelsea decided to tap him again. "Sir?"

"Vaughn." His deep voice reverberated in her ears.

"How about you dance with me Vaughn?" She said with a warm smile upon her face.

He answered flatly, remaining hunched lower over his drink. "I don't dance."

Chelsea latched onto his bicep and tugged at him excitedly. He still didn't look at her. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"I doubt that."

"This isn't an opportunity you'll get every day. It's a pretty exclusive thing. I don't often offer out dances you know."

"Yes, it's an honour to dance with the lady." Another man chimed in, grabbing his other arm. "Just get up and dance."

"By hook or crook I'm getting you dancing sir."

"I said no." He ripped himself from the man and Chelsea's grip, stumbling a bit as he did so. He moved back and bumped into another man causing him to slosh whiskey all down his front.

He turned angrily on Vaughn and barked. "Watch it!"

He ignored the man, giving no apologies, and strode out of the Saloon. Chelsea was left stunned for a few seconds until she heard the bartender exclaimed angrily, "He hasn't paid!"

"Don't worry, I'll see to it he pays." Chelsea said hurriedly as she made for the doors. "Angela, Molly, keep dancing! I'll be back." She called over her shoulder.

Outside the night air was cool against the bare skin of her shoulders and the moon hung over the wooden buildings like a silent observer. She hugged at herself while looking around. That man sure was fast.

She spotted his figure wandering down the dirt street. He was a couple of houses down, close to the inn. Maybe that was where he was going. He did look like the kind of man to be trailing, the kind to do a lot of moving around. _Well, he does look mighty like a waddy to me._

"Hey! Hey there!" She scooped up her skirt and jogged after him. She saw him stop walking but he didn't turn around. She slowed to a halt behind him and placed her hands upon her hips. "Hey now, you didn't pay sir."

He was silent and he still didn't turn around. Chelsea was considering giving this man a good talking to but he spoke before she could open her mouth. "Here." He grunted, throwing back a couple of coins.

Chelsea scrambled to catch them but only ended up grabbing one. She scowled at him as she stooped to pick up the fallen gold. "Sir, that certainly was not necessary." She said as she marched around to plant herself firmly in front of him. She didn't like that he wasn't facing her. She liked to have eye contact with those she talked to.

She regretted that decision a little bit. He had a very cold stare. _Icy_ she would call it...and rather purple. Those were some strange eyes. Pretty though.

She straightened her back and puffed out her chest before speaking in a solid tone. "I believe you owe someone an apology."

He raised an eyebrow. "What? You mean the drifter I knocked into?"

"No! Me. That gent would be far too blue to even care. He's out of it."

He stared at her for a few moments, looking almost exasperated and then he pushed past her without uttering a single word.

She spun around and grabbed his sleeve. "Hey, hey, hey! That is not an apology."

She heard him heave an aggravated sigh, rubbing a hand over weary-looking eyes. He removed his hand and she was staring into two violet pools again. "And what exactly am I apologising for?"

"You know," She said, "being rude at the bar, running out without paying, throwing solid pieces of metal at me. That sort of stuff."

"I don't need to apologise for that."

"Wha-!"

"Look girl, last thing I wanted tonight was some sappy saloon dancer to stomp over and be causing skulduggery. That trouble was enough to have lost you an apology."

"Saloon dancer? No, no sir. I don't just dance, I sing too; sometimes we even put on little skits. Then not just that, I work a plot during the day. Think I'm sappy now? I'm an all-round entertainer, farmer, miner, fisherman and survivor. Can you beat that Poppet?"

Vaughn ground his teeth. "First off, don't be calling me Poppet. I don't care who I give a slogging to. Second, it's not hard to beat a plough chaser such as yourself. Bet you don't even know how to aim a gun."

"Well, naw... 'Course not. I've never even tried to shoot before! I'll bet if you gave me a talking-iron I'd be able to riddle anything with holes."

"...Stupid..." He growled and took off down the road, muttering as he went, "I don't have time for this."

She ran after him. "Whoa- Wait, wait. How about tomorrow at noon then? You can see me shoot. "

"Not here tomorrow." He continued to walk.

"What do you mean? You're leaving? I can't just let someone insult me and then get away without me amazing them."

"I've got work."

"When are you leaving then? I can show you early tomorrow."

"I'm leaving early tomorrow."

"Well what about right now? Give me than gun in your holster. I'll show you." She said enthusiastically as she reached for the weapon.

He slapped her hand away, doing his best to shrug her off. He was getting more agitated by the second. "I need my sleep and I certainly wouldn't trust you with my gun." He entered the inn.

She followed him in. "What about-"

"Stop pestering me!" He bellowed, his face contorted in downright ferocity.

Chelsea jumped back a little in shock but then regained her cool. She saw to her right the innkeeper ogling them with his mouth agape, frozen in the act of cleaning a lantern. She cringed and looked away from the bushy-moustached tenant.

Her expression morphed into one of a naughty child who knew they had crossed some sort of boundary that shouldn't be crossed. She had been rather startled by Vaughn's explosion and it seemed he had been too. His eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth dropped from its venomous snarl into a confused frown. He mumbled something to himself before walking off, yet again without another word. Not even a nod of the head!

"I'll see you around." She called weakly.

Naught. Zilch. Nil.

She received not a single ditty in reply.

She hadn't really expected one. It did make her feel a bit putout though. Where was his common courtesy?

With a huff, she fixed the feather that had come askew in her hair and stomped out the door.

* * *

**It's the Old West! _Bang! Bang!_**

**I get way too excited over cowboys... The old Western style media is just brilliant ****though**** and maybe a bit overdone but I wanted to try my hand at it anyway. And its amazing how well the characters from Harvest Moon fit into this concept. I'm not even just talking about Vaughn here. I've got a plan for so many characters. I feel very very happy right now.**

**So its not going to be completely historically accurate but I would like to add in snippets of truth here and there. I've already put in a load of slang to this story.**

**In the future of this fic it will probably get a lot darker but that is a long way off yet so enjoy these jolly moments while they last. See you next time! Byeeeeeeee**


	2. Ol'Benny's

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**Ol'Benny's**

* * *

Chelsea trudged into the Saloon just as the last of the customers were being kicked out. They tended to close up late at Ol'Benny's- or earlier depending on how you looked at it. So now just as the early light of dawn began to appear in golden streaks of sky Chelsea threw herself on top of a bar stool and let her head fall with a _thump_ against the counter.

Ol'Benny- come owner and occasional bartender- poured her out a whiskey without saying a word. He wasn't really a talker but Chelsea appreciated the silent support regardless. Benny was a good man, a good employer to boot. He paid her and the girls well. And as for Will... Well Chelsea didn't have the slightest insight into what Will earned. He liked to skirt around that topic.

She inclined her head to Benny and after a mumbled "Cheers" threw the glass back, gulping the alcohol down in one. She slammed the empty glass down, smacking her lips together in appreciation. "Man, I needed that. Seriously Benny, you won't believe my night. Remember that gent Benny? The grouchy one? Oh wait, you weren't on shift. Darn. I'll tell you anyway! So this man was probably one of the rudest customers I've seen passing through here. And I mean, I know I've only been here for... what now- nearly a whole season- but honestly, he was just so damn rude! Some belvidere waddy with the personality of a mustang's ass is what he was!"

Chelsea saw Benny's bushy eyebrows furrow together slightly- his most commonplace sign of confusion. It was the little expressions you had to spot when talking to Benny or you'd never be able to hold a solid conversation (of sorts).

"His personality stank Benny! That's what I'm getting at. It stank like a mustang's ass."

"I do hope you don't often go smelling horses' rear-ends, my lady." Chelsea gasped, nearly falling off the bar stool as the ever immaculate Will popped up beside her. How he was always able to appear out of the blue was a mystery but it never failed to surprise her. She had found it amusing and quite incredible the first few times but after that she was quick to become irritated. For all his talk of chivalry making her jump out of her skin at every given moment hardly seemed at all gallant in her mind.

"You shut your big bazoo!" She exclaimed indignantly, slapping her hands to the bar in order to keep herself steady. She heard the quite chortle of Ol'Benny from behind the bar and aimed a scowl in his direction, "You too!"

"Oh come now, Chelsea." Will poised himself elegantly atop of a nearby stool, sweeping up the drink Benny poured for him, "I only wanted to check up on you. Oh, by the way you were dazzling last night."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks Will. Now vamoose."

"Ah, your words are a harsh dagger to my tender heart!" He mimed a stabbing action into his chest and fell from his seat to the floor in a dramatic fashion.

Chelsea chuckled lightly and prodded him away with the tow of her boot. "Be off with you. Go play the piano."

"Anything for you, my lady."

She watched the pianist flounce off with a suppressed smile and amused twinkle to the eye. It was honestly so hard to remain aloof when Will was around. He was far too much of a social butterfly to evoke true annoyance from within her.

"I better make myself scarce too, Benny. Molly is probably worrying like a madman right about now." Chelsea looked to Benny for conformation. He delivered an anticipated nod which was no source of comfort for Chelsea. Foreseeing the lecture she was sure to receive was hardly able to soften the blow.

With a sigh she dropped the gold recovered from last night's renegade cowboy and pushed it in the direction of the ever silent Benny. "Here's some cash for the bank. And I hope these coins get the appreciation they deserve- maybe live out the rest of their coin existence being swapped between gentle hands- 'cause they were most certainly not with gentle hands last night. Thrown through the air they were, Benny- at a wonderful farmer no less. Some even fell to the dust at my feet."

Her ramble was lost on Benny who listened yet had not a clue to what strange happenings partook in his employee's mind. With the perfect amendment of his expression from mildly puzzled to downright lost in a sea of bewildering words Benny hesitantly made to scoop up the coins.

"Careful," Chelsea demanded of the baffled man. "You be careful with those coins. I saved them from a terrible fate- a terrible man. You give them the gentle hands they deserve."

And on that note she swept away up the stairs to receive a good talking to and leaving the bartender staring at the gold cupped in his palms as if it may just get up and do a jig. With the confident words of the Grand Granger echoing in his mind he stowed the coins away in a draw and vowed never to look at them again.

* * *

**So I thought I would start explaining some of the slang or more confusing dialogue here. Most of you can probably know or can piece together the meanings but just in case you are now able to refer to this when in a state of confusion- just like my lovely Ol'Benny. The first OC of the story! I didn't really want to use one of the Harvest Moon characters in his place because I didn't want to waste them yet. Plus the fact that Benny is awesome. BENNY! BENNY! BENNY!**

**Grand - excellent, beautiful. **

**Granger - a farmer.**

**Thus Chelsea's stage name/nickname is the Grand Granger. Beautiful Farmer. However Granger could also be used in a more derogatory fashion back in the old west but we'll get into that more later.**

**Waddy - One of the words for cowboy, especially a cowboy who drifted from ranch to ranch and helped out in busy times.**

**Belvidere - A handsome man.**

**Chelsea calling Vaughn a handsome cowboy yet in a rather infuriated way. Her opinion being 'all looks, no substance' in this case.**

**Vamoose - Basically a way of telling someone to scram/go away.**

**Bazoo - Mouth.**


	3. Angela and Molly

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**Angela and Molly**

* * *

Chelsea pressed her ear against the door to the room she shared with her roommates. From behind the flimsy wood she heard a panicked muttering which she was sure must have been sweet little Molly. Then the _thud_ that came soon after she assumed to be the not so sweet- truth be told, rather brash- Angela bashing her head in after listening to Molly go to pieces. Somewhat reluctantly, Chelsea knocked on the door. In reply to her timid knock the muttering ceased and then came Angela's petulant bark, "The door's open!"

Chelsea entered with downcast eyes. She certainly was not looking forward to this.

"And the Grand Granger makes her long anticipated return!" Angela cried in a droll fashion, arms flying above her head and almost immediately dropping back to her sides, resuming their listless position. She looked dead tired and incredibly irritated.

Then there was Molly who appeared to be frozen to the spot- eyes wide and jaw dropped. The moment of still passed in which Molly seemed to find the ability to move once again, for within a second she was at Chelsea's side with her arms wrapped tightly around her friend. But then, quite suddenly, she drew back. She held Chelsea at arm's length, hands left firmly upon her shoulders. With a routine motherly gaze Molly gave her a once over and gasped, quite horrified, as she stared at her muddy overalls. "Where have you been? And your dress-!"

"Don't worry," Chelsea sighed wearily, patting the worn leather bag slung around her shoulder. "It's in my satchel."

Molly's expression was wary, a frown forming on her soft featured face. "What on earth have you been doing all night?"

"Oh my..." Angela purred, the corners of her lips quirking into an impish grin. It seemed as if a simply delicious thought had hit her and that never boded well with Chelsea.

"What?" She asked apprehensively.

Angela gave herself a moment to savour the notion and then spoke in a complacent drawl. "Don't tell me what you've been doing all night is... Was that man half as rude once he got you in his bed?"

Blood rushed to her cheeks as Chelsea gaped at her friend in a mixture of surprise and indignation. "The hell-! No!"

"Angela, Chelsea is not that kind of girl! And to even suggest such a vulgar thing-!"

"I know that- just a joke-"

Chelsea scoffed causing Angela to throw a wayward scowl in her direction. She pursed her lips and then addressed her again, tone still fairly defensive. "So why were you out so long?"

"Yes, Chelly dear. What have you been doing?"

"Watering crops." Chelsea mumbled shamefacedly, picking off wayward bits of dirt from her attire, determinedly focused on this ineffectual task rather than the more unappealing option of having to meet the reproachful stare Molly was sure to give.

"Farm work in the middle of the night? That is not healthy Chelly." She was aware of Molly's disapproval just from the tone of voice.

She shrugged. "I needed to let off some steam."

Both women watched her sceptically, eyebrows raised. "By watering plants till dawn?"

"Very therapeutic. I'm sure." Angela said dryly.

"...And I may have smashed the bolder."

"_The bolder_? The one we've been trying to get rid of for a week?"

"Heck Chels! How much steam did you have to let off?" Angela exclaimed, jumping out of her seat in awe.

"There was a lot of rage taken out on that bolder." Chelsea explained awkwardly, squirming under her friends' gaze. She was discomfited by the sudden astonished attention shone upon her.

"You know," Angela strode across the shabby room, "I'm going to need to see this for myself. Come on Molly; we can see our Granger's handiwork from the window."

The smallest of the three- but undoubtedly the most mature- scampered after Angela, keen to also satisfy her own curiosity. Together, after some effort, they pushed up on the rigid window pane and forced it open. The two poked their heads out through the worryingly narrow gap to peer into the distance at their plot, which resided on the very edge of town.

Angela let out a shrill whistle of admiration. "Well I'll be... She really did! Smashed right down to the ground."

"My Chelly, you really did do a grand job!" Molly joined the praising enthusiastically, bringing herself back inside fully to congratulate her workmate. "Saved us the trouble of hiring someone, you did!"

"Wait a minute..." Angela spoke, still leaning out of the window. She squinted and leaned further as to look at something not entirely discernible. "There's some fellows over yonder, coming up to our patch."

"Waddys? Traders?"

"No, no... Well, maybe waddys, but then they might not be... Funny look'in. Real bright clothing. And they're walk'in heavy with a load of iron too. I don't really like the look of them. Hope they don't stop for a drink here later; I don't want to be serving any loons- Hey!"

Angela was cut off as Chelsea pushed her out of the way to look for herself.

Chelsea stood motionless, with hands gripping the windowsill so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No..." She quickly snapped out of her petrifaction and slammed the window shut in one fell swoop.

"Chels, how strong are you?" Angela gaped at her, appearing slightly put out. "It took two of us to open that up and then you just-"

She turned on then with such alarm covering her features that Angela stopped talking instantly. She knew something was terribly wrong.

Molly moved forwards tentatively, resting a tender hand on Chelsea's arm. "Chelly dear, what is the matter? What's got you in this state?"

Chelsea met Molly's eyes and saw their gentle expression. It was something so consoling and familiar it made her heart wrench. "Its- I can't-" For a second she looked as if she was going to answer but seemingly thought against it as then her expression hardened, her eyes becoming steely. "Angela, Molly, I want you to hide now. Stay hidden for as long as you possibly can."

"Huh?" Molly stepped back from her as Chelsea ran to the dresser and wrenched open the bottom draw, bringing about a look of confusion on both their faces.

"I have to leave," She muttered, beginning to throw clothing into her satchel. "I have to get far away. I don't know if I'll be able to come back but... Oh god..."

"What's going on?" Angela watched her friend pack frantically, seeing her throw precious mementos and money into the shoulder bag. Chelsea stood without bothering to shut the draw, closing the clasp on her bag as she moved. Now standing by the door, she stopped and turned back to them.

"Chelsea?" Angela's voice came to her as a whimper.

She didn't dare look at them as she spoke. If she looked now she wouldn't have it in her to leave them. She kept her eyes fixed to the rickety floorboards below. "Hide. Just hide. I... You are both very dear to me. Thank you for everything."

She left then and never looked back.

* * *

**Shit is starting to hit the fan! This is where everything will start to kick off and now I'm so excited for this story. And the reviews and alerts have made me quite happy too. Thank you for taking the time to give this story a read.**

**So this chapter basically shows you how I've always perceived these heroines. I've always thought of Molly as somebody very sweet and caring, always looking out for everyone else and always giving second chances.**

**Angela I picture to come across quite ****presumptuous and tasteless at times but with good will at heart. If someone were to do her wrong I would imagine it to be very difficult to win her favour back.**

**And then Chelsea is the happy-go-lucky kind of girl who does her own thing and won't let someone tell her otherwise (except maybe Molly). I'd say she would give someone a second chance but only after being angry at them for a while.**

**So now that I've given you my long-winded character summaries here is some delicious, delicious slang.**

**Yonder – Over there / Some distance away.**

**Walking heavy – Carrying guns.**

**Iron – Also refers to guns.**

**Loons - Crazy people.**


	4. Will

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**Will**

* * *

Chelsea hurtled down the stairs of the saloon, muddy footprints trailing after her.

Will was down there- at the piano- fingers dancing across the keys. She wasn't sure where Benny was. She told herself it was good that he wasn't there. It was less people to worry about.

The pianist looked to her and she saw his immediate confusion. She wanted to stop. She wanted to stop so badly just so she could explain, find Benny, thank them both and tell them how much she cared about them. But she couldn't. She could not allow herself to dawdle, no matter how tempting it may be.

Tearing through the midst of old furniture and dirty shot glasses, she heard Will call to her. She slowed for a second, instinctively waiting to listen. It only took her a moment to get a grip. She took off once again, catching her hip on a crooked table as she turned. She stumbled, hissing out her pain. That was going to be sore tomorrow. If she was still alive tomorrow.

"Wait, Chelsea!" He called again, beginning to run after her.

_No. Please don't follow me. _She pleaded silently.

Just as she was about to push through the Saloon doors a force pulled her back. Will's grip around her wrist was strong and did not relent even as she squirmed desperately against him. "Will! Don't be an idiot! Let go!" She shrieked, attempting to stamp on his foot.

Her heel made contact and he yelped a curse, before spinning Chelsea to face him, holding her still with both hands. "What has gotten into you?" He demanded while shaking her slightly, appearing quite startled by Chelsea's unusual fierceness.

"Will, there are some cads after me and if I don't leave now we are all dead." She told him, her tone gravely and expression dark, "So just let go already."

He was like a whitewash as the colour drained from his face. "Gol-darn..." He murmured, releasing Chelsea to run a shaky hand over his pallid face as a shudder raked through his body. He remained in a hunched position for only an instant for then he took away the hand and stood up straight, lips drawn into a tight line as he looked upon her with a concrete gaze.

Chelsea was stilled as she watched his odd reaction. He looked passively alarmed, peacefully distressed. And even that analysis didn't make sense in her mind. It was an oxymoron. It was peculiar. It was a mystery.

But it was not one she had the time to figure out. "I have to go now Will." She mumbled gravely, turning away.

"No!" He cried and snagged his hand on her sleeve. He spoke again, his voice more even this time, "I can help. I can lead them away- cause a fuss or something."

"You are a pianist, not a sheriff. Stop trying to act like one. If you really want to be chivalrous you'd do best to stay here and protect the girls, protect Benny."

Will reached inside his waistcoat and to Chelsea's surprise he withdrew a gun. "I can help more than you would think, my lady."

She gazed at the gun with horrified eyes, not quite believing Will's determination. She had only known him for a season. They hardly knew each other! Not really... She hadn't even known he owned a gun- she'd thought him a flowery yellow belly- and he certainly didn't know about her past. How could he care that much? He was taking this chivalry madness too far. He was an idiot.

"Fine!" Her voice burst forth in a sudden ferocity, trembling fists held rigidly by her sides. She didn't have time for this. She couldn't save them all. "Do whatever you want..."

Chelsea pulled away from Will and left before he could see her watering eyes._ Stupid. He's so stupid._

* * *

**I feel so cheeky with this chapter... Ho, ho, ho! Hidden plot!**

**Originally this was meant to be one big chapter with the stuff coming next but I'm off to my grandparents tomorrow and I'm not sure if I'll have the chance to type there. So you've got a mini-chappie instead! Don't worry, our favorite cowboy will make his return next chapter.**

**And can I just say to the guest who calls themself Wild West Fan: You are awesome! I like your attitude.**

**The rest of you are awesome too but I'm giving Wild West Fan an internet high-five. You made me laugh. Well done.**

**Gol-Darn - (or Gol-Dern) - A swear word / cuss word.**

**Yellow Belly - A Coward.**

**Cad - A villain, a fiend, etc, etc...**


	5. The Great Escape

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**The Great Escape**

* * *

She ducked behind some crates, furiously wiping at her eyes. "No crying, no crying Chelly dear." She mumbled the words of comfort that had once been Molly's.

She had to focus now. There was no time for silly tears. Chelsea was no baby. She was a grown woman. She would damn well carry on no matter what that stupid pianist decided to do.

Chelsea peered over the crates- to her right seeing the looming figures of her past. It was a fast approaching fray- one that she would do her best to avoid at all costs. Her best option was to leave the town; hiding would only ever prolong the inevitable. But the question was how? She had no horse- not anymore at least. She didn't have the money or the time to put towards hired transport. And then that left only one alternative.

It meant she would have to steal. She would not. She could not. It was wrong.

But now was not a good time for morals to start kicking in.

They were there, drawing nearer on her right flank, but to her left there lied her escape. She saw a wagon, parked further up the road, complete with an overhead cover and horses that were already geared and ready to go. And even better, it was completely unattended. At least there was some luck on her side today.

Perched in a crouch, debating whether to wait or make a dash for it, Chelsea's gaze flitted back and forth between the men and the wagon. They would see her if she ran but what other choice did she have? The closer they got the less distance would be put between them. It was then that he appeared, hollering and firing bullets into the sky, riding a stallion into plain view. Maybe his golden curls and blazing white horse did make him look heroic or knight-like. However, in all the confusion, Chelsea only had room in her baffled mind to wonder where he had found a horse.

She watched him bravely gallop straight into the thick of her foes and felt fear flicker within her. He was going to get himself killed. He did not know these fiends like she did. They were stone cold killers, vile and immoral. Did he think he would be able to take then all on? No. That wasn't it. He wasn't firing at them. He pulled the reins of his horse and stopped directly in front of the brightly dressed cads. She was surprised enough they didn't shoot him on sight but that couldn't last for long.

His hands were moving, making gestures, gun lowered. Did he think he could try to talk them out of it? That wouldn't work. _Will, it won't work._

She ripped her gaze from them, quenching whatever useless feeling that had been burning through her. She focused directly on the cart now. No Molly. No Angela. No Benny. Certainly no Will. Just her and an escape, her ticket out of there.

So she ran. She pushed off from the crates, not caring who saw her now. Let them chase and try and fail. Will would block them and she would be gone. He could be the knight in shining armour if that was what he so desperately wanted- a foolish desire. He had his choice and she had hers. It was for the best.

Her legs pumped hard against the dusty road, eyes focused intently upon the wagon. _Don't look back, _She told herself firmly. _Look back and you won't be able to carry on._

Now she heard distant exclamations from behind her. They had noticed her but it was far too late now. She vaulted into the driving seat of the wagon, gathering up the reins hastily. She set the wagon into motion with a jolt, the horses clearly not expecting the sudden spur into action.

A loud _thud_ resounded behind her as what she at first presumed to be cargo that filled the back of the wagon. That was until she heard a muffled curse. Her eyes grew wide with panic. She sincerely hoped she was hearing things. There could not be a person back there.

Quickly but carefully Chelsea drew back the cloth covering the rear section of the wagon and sneaked a quick look inside. She struggled to contain a gasp when she saw that same belvidere cowboy from last night, rubbing a newly formed red patch on his head, hat set crookedly over a messy head of hair. "What in the world...?" She heard him mutter, somewhat dazed.

She dropped the cloth, turning her attention back on the horses. _Don't look back. Don't look back._ She repeated, fighting to remain composed now that she heard unruly shouts and the sound of thundering hooves fast approaching. There had been no gun shots though. _Yet_, her mind added grimly.

She felt sick. Lightheaded. Her breaths were starting to come out as short sharp puffs and the world around her swayed precariously. The only way she managed to keep a grip on the situation was to keep her gaze transfixed on the far-off early morning horizon.

This was turning out to be a right mess. These men turning up, her being forced to leave people she had grown so fond of, and Will being utterly stupid...now she had this miserable man in the back of her escape vehicle. It was all happening too fast, too sudden.

She wondered what had happened to Will, if he was dead or alive. She wondered if he had actually behaved in the way she would have expected- done the cowardly thing, the sensible thing. Had he even tried to stop them? Was he still trying to stop them?

Yet even worse than wondering about Will's fate was to wonder about her own. It was enough to make her head spin.

Chelsea still had a small glimmer of hope inside her that this was just a bad dream, a nightmare to disappear entirely the moment she woke up. That glimmer was so crudely crushed when the cloth behind her was ripped back to reveal a disorientated looking cowboy.

There was a moment in which he stared at her in confusion but then his expression morphed into a livid glare, lips curled into a snarl. "You!"

If she had felt at all better Chelsea probably would have made a rather nasty remark at that point, one to match the animosity this man was showing her. But instead she remained silent, focusing herself on sitting steady.

He appeared all the more incensed by her silence and went on to ask in a dangerously low voice, "What in the God's name do you think you're doing?"

Her grip on the reins tightened, white knuckles flashing. She gritted her teeth as she spoke, her tone gruff and just as dangerous, yet rather strained. "Not now."

"What the hell do you mean 'not now'?" He growled furiously, clambering into the driving seat. "You are stealing my wagon Granger! This is not-why- just give me those!" He snatched the ridding straps from her grasp, her grip relinquishing far too easily.

Everything was spinning and Chelsea was having a hard time on working out which way was right or left. She was losing her grip on the reality before her and now her mind delved into something forgotten. A blind raging fire surfaced from her suppressed memories and appeared at the forefront of her mind, flickering and dancing around charred bodies. Distant screams and distorted guns shots echoed inside her head, reverberating sounds that weren't quite tangible.

Chelsea really felt like she was going to be sick now. She was tipping, tipping... Vaughn latched onto her arm and pulled her back upright- a much better option than seeing her mangled beneath his wagon's wheels."Stupid woman! What are you-"

And all of a sudden it became quite tangible. The first shot was fired and she heard a terrible scream from a voice quite familiar to her. It was enough to pull Chelsea out of her delirium; it was even enough to make her break her golden rule.

She looked back, forgetting how resolutely she had told herself not to. In a surge of newfound strength Chelsea pulled herself around the side of the wagon to be leaning out, able to see those behind.

A strangled sob broke forth. She felt like gagging. She felt like crying.

She knew this would happen but it really didn't help her to stop feeling this way.

Will's motionless body left in the dirt, red stains seeping into his shirt and his fallen horse crushing his legs was an image burnt into her memories as a fresh piece of hell to torment her. She fell back into the seat and sat limply, her face frozen in shock.

Vaughn had yet to stop the wagon but was now feeling that he definitely should not do that. He turned on Chelsea in a mixture of anger and alarm. "That was a gun shot. Why the hell was there a gun shot? Who's following?"

"Don't look back." She murmured, seemingly more to herself than Vaughn.

He swore quite loudly and thrust the reins back at Chelsea before swinging himself to lean out just as she had done. The moment his head poked around the corner a bullet whizzed past his left ear, very narrowly missing him. He pulled back quickly and aimed an especially nasty scowl at Chelsea. "What mess have you pulled me into?"

Chelsea had collected herself to some extent, beginning to come to terms with what she had seen. The initial shock had faded at least. She was now just left with a hollow feeling.

"A big mess." She replied hoarsely.

Vaughn thought he had seen the last of this irritating woman yesterday but now she had turned up again, hijacking his wagon and dragging him into the midst of a dangerous chase. He struggled to push away thoughts of stopping to just turn her over because, in spite of everything, he did have a certain sense of human decency.

He spoke through a clenched jaw, feeling little sympathy for Chelsea at this current time. "Yes, I can see that."

"We need to lose them."

"We?" Vaughn looked to her incredulously and grumbled something incoherent before nodding in agreement. "Fine. _We _will lose them. Here, take this."

He withdrew the pistol from his holster and pushed it into a startled Chelsea's hands. "You said you wanted to shoot, so now your wish is granted. Get firing." He said, pulling a rifle from the back of the wagon for himself.

"But I've never used a gun before!" Chelsea exclaimed in a panic, holding the gun gingerly in her hands as if it was going to spontaneously fire.

"Learn quickly then." Vaughn told her whilst checking his gun for ammo then wrapping the horse's reins around the front of the wagon, "And may I remind you how keen you were yesterday."

"I wouldn't have been shooting at living targets yesterday! I can't kill someone- I can't!"

He positioned his torso to be settled against the roof of the wagon, body pressed flat against the cover. "Aim for the horses," He fired and Chelsea heard a yelp of pain, "then you don't have to worry about killing people."

"That's just as bad. It's a living breathing creature, just like us! I couldn't possibly-"

"Look Granger, it's them or people. Choose one and start shooting."

She licked her pale lips, fingering the gun uneasily. After a moment of nervous fidgeting and watching Vaughn pick off men without a care she burst out with a resigned cry, "Alright, alright! The horses..."

She settled herself beside Vaughn to be peaking just over the top of the cover, ready to duck if need be. Hesitantly, she raised the pistol to point at the nearest horse, the man riding coming alarmingly close to the wagon. Her hands were turning clammy; she felt like the gun was going to slip straight out from her finger tips. Her body was trembling. Her aim was off. She couldn't do this.

"Shoot!" Vaughn's sudden command started her into pulling the trigger. She hadn't expected it, nor had she expected the recoil of the gun. She nearly toppled backwards.

"Brilliant," Vaughn hissed, ducking as a bullet tore past them, pushing Chelsea down with him, "You missed."

"Well, what were you expecting?" She bristled and shook him off. "For me to be some kind of crack shot?"

"Just shut up for a second," Vaughn turned from her to ram the back of his rifle against the enemy who Chelsea had failed to stop from approaching their vehicle. The man tumbled off the back of his horse and met the floor in a rather awkward position. Chelsea cringed at the sickening crunch that accompanied the landing.

"Surely someone needs to drive, right?" She indicated to the horses, attempting a pleasant smile. It turned out much more like a grimace. "I mean, the horses could run into a rock or something."

"My horses are actually intelligent unlike some people."

The words _Mustang's ass_ immediately came to mind. Chelsea frowned at him and retook her position just in time to see him deliver a particularly brutal head shot. Seeing a man's head get blown apart before her eyes did nothing to settle Chelsea's nerves. Fortunately, it seemed to have a similar effect on the rest of them, keeping the men scared enough to keep their distance. In fact, they were turning around.

"You're in luck Granger. The few left over seem to be retreating." Vaughn told her in a sour mouthed tone.

Chelsea felt like weeping for joy or crying out to heaven but right now she was too tired. "Thank the lord..."She sighed and sank into the seat, shaky hands dropping the pistol. "Good riddance to 'em."

"Don't get all comfy on my wagon!"

Chelsea ignored Vaughn's affronted cry, letting her eyes close and her mind slip into the blank calm she sorely needed. For now she could rest.

* * *

**I've finally got this done and I have to say I'm not actually that proud of this one. Fast pace action is just so hard to write.**

**But I've revealed some things...vaguely. And the story is really kicking off now! Whoo!**

**I've been playing a lot of Red Dead Redemption as of recent so my understanding of the Old West id further increasing. Lots of learning.**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this everyone and to Wild West Fan- I do like pringles (especially BBQ mmmm) so that is a lovely compliment in my book. Thank you! And I will reveal the titles meaning soon. Just not today.**


	6. Onwards

**~A lick and a Promise~**

**Onwards**

* * *

Through the lids of her eyes she saw a darkness fall over her. Chelsea cracked an eye open to be faced with Vaughn's hulking form standing over her. She watched him lazily for some time while he stared back with an intent scowl. "What are you doing?" He finally asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Invading my privacy and property."

"There's that," Chelsea answered, "But mainly I'm trying to rest."

"Well, can you stop?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Not really."

Infuriated beyond belief by this woman's attitude, Vaughn took the reins into his hand and pulled back. The wagon ground to a halt and Chelsea sat bolt upright. She eyed him warily, noting the way his hands fisted around the reins and his hat shadowed his face. She couldn't see his expression.

"Why are you stopping?" She asked slowly, panic edging back into her tone.

"Get off."

The reply was simple and the meaning clear, yet Chelsea still had a hard time processing it. "W-What?"

"Get. Off. My. Wagon." He snarled and threw the reins down.

"No! I can't!" She cried, her hands curling around the bench she sat on as if that alone could keep her there. "I mean, you wouldn't just leave me here."

"I would and I will. Get off." He bit out.

Chelsea could hardly believe it. This was beyond cruel. "I will die." She told him plainly, voice pained and eyes searching.

His gaze flitted away from contact and rested to scrutinize the nearby cacti. "That's none of my concern." His answer was cold, yet there was some hesitance. It gave her hope.

She stood up from her seat, trying to match his height. She may not be quite as tall as him but her presence would make up for what she lacked in stature. "Then why did you save me back there? It seemed to be your concern then."

Vaughn rolled his eyes as he told her, "I would have died too if I hadn't."

"You could have surrendered me them." She reasoned, arms folding across her chest, and head nodding her claim into truth.

He gave her a dismissive shrug. "They would have shot me anyway."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do."

"How?" Chelsea demanded, even though she knew Vaughn was likely right. She was just being petty, spiteful- her inner-Angela as she sometimes liked to call it.

"I know how these mercenaries are."

"How the hell would you know how- wait... Mercenaries? How'd you know they were mercenaries?"

"The clothes. Isn't it obvious?" He said it like the answer was staring her in the face. _The arrogant son of a gun._..

Chelsea's eyebrows furrowed together as she thought about it. Was it obvious?

She shook her head.

"You never heard of the harlequin riders?"

Chelsea didn't know them by name, or notoriety. She knew them by actions."No. Should I?"

"Well, they're famous round these parts."

She pursued her lips and cast her gaze downwards. It seemed she still had a lot to learn. "I don't come from these parts."

"No... Neither do I." Vaughn also looked away, out at the barren landscape, yet his look was wistful. He stood like that, seemingly transfixed on something intangible, something elusive, but then one of the horses whinnied and his attention snapped back to Chelsea. "Stop trying to distract me! You need to get off my wagon right now."

"Or what?" Chelsea scoffed, prodding at Vaughn's chest. He growled and made to grab her hand but she moved back before he could. With her lips curled into a simper, she offered the cowboy a verbal challenge. "You'll shoot me? Go ahead. That's exactly what will happen if you leave me here now, that is assuming I don't get mauled by some wild beast first."

"You think I care about that?" He said with a scathing glare.

"As a matter a fact, I do. As difficult as I'm finding it to believe, I am sure, nearly positively sure, that deep down you care. You had the morality to help me and I would be most obliged if you could spare me a seat on your wagon for just a bit longer. At least until we get to the next town."

There was a moment of terse silence in which Vaughn stared at Chelsea with a locked jaw, eyeing her with an air of disbelief. She met his look with determination, confronting his cynicism, daring him to reject her, to leave her for dead.

But the moment didn't last long.

Vaughn heaved a sigh and the tension was gone."...Just to the next town?"

Chelsea nodded, a slight smile edging its way onto her lips. With renewed vigour, Chelsea sat herself down in her seat and thrust a commanding hand outwards, another hand adjusting the satchel over her shoulder. "To the next town, my good sir!"

* * *

**It has been a while. So sorry. I have come to the conclusion that A-levels are rather time consuming but they are incredibly fun. One of my subjects is creative writing so its right down my street.**

**You actually reminded me that I had this half done chapter waiting to be ****finished Wild West Fan. Thanks for that. It probably would have remained a stagnant word document forevermore otherwise.**


	7. The Dead Adder

**~A lick and a Promise~**

**The Dead Adder**

* * *

The wagon trundled to a stop outside a dingy looking saloon. Chelsea surveyed the building uneasily, seeing the oil lamps casting patches of faint light over the dusk-lit porch, hearing the rambunctious jeers swelling from inside, and then there was a crooked sign that hung above the door reading 'The Dead Adder'.

She looked to Vaughn, mouth strained in a charlatan smile. "I guess this is my stop."

"I guess." He agreed tersely.

Chelsea opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off as the Saloon doors slammed open and two men came tumbling out, both inebriated and messy-looking. They looked to be in a fight, for in the next moment one had smashed a bottle against the wall and pointed the jagged end towards his aggressor. There was a sudden scramble as a chase gave way, the man holding the bottle pursuing the other.

Chelsea jerked as she heard a pained yell from down the street. The bottle must have found its mark. "Well," Her voice was far too airy. She cleared her throat as to bring herself back to an even tone, "I want to thank you. You've-Well, it's been good."

She stepped down from the wagon, hands lingering on the sides of the tarnished wood. "Thanks again." She waited for Vaughn's reply, her expression anxious, maybe even hopeful.

Vaughn eyed her, scrutinizing her strange look. They remained locked in their stare for a moment, in which Chelsea waited in bated breath, held in paralysis by his strange purple eyes and what answer they may bring. She visibly shrank back as Vaughn tipped his hat to her in a silent response.

"I see..." She murmured, fingering her overalls restlessly. Chelsea gave another glance over her shoulder towards the Saloon. It was not like Ol'Benny's. "So, uh... Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Chelsea watched him drive off, his departure bringing about a sensation of loss. She felt as if her one escape route had been cut-off; the cave exit had crumbled and collapsed. Now the only option was to dig herself out, or let herself die in the darkness.

It was back where she had started. Alone.

She wondered how long she could dig for this time before the rubble would cave in upon her.

Chelsea turned- and despite being out of her comfort in a strange town- resolutely strode into the saloon. It would be just like last time. She had not known anything about the previous town. Yet there she had been able to make friends, work, and a new life for herself. It couldn't be different here. The cycle would continue for long as she could maintain it.

She crossed the thresholds of The Dead Adder and was met with a din of slurred laughter, unadulterated heckling, and the racy calls of women. No, it was most definitely not like Ol'Benny's.

Her march became a shuffle and her shoulders came inwards, almost as if it would shelter her from the unruly strangers that surrounded her. Men were absolved in shouting and lounging, with drinks and women falling into their laps. Their faces were dirtied and most movements sluggish or violent. The ladies of this bar were loud and raunchy, dressed in little more than dishevelled undergarments. They had succumbed themselves to the pleasure they gave and the perks they received.

Chelsea could feel their gaze. She ducked her head down as to avoid the harshness of the womanly judgment while walking to the bar. She felt out of place. She had not encountered anything like this before.

She had not been under the impression she had been sheltered, but now she was beginning to rethink that.

She reached the bar and rapped on the counter, much more timidly than she would have liked. The bartender turned from pouring Alcohol to face Chelsea. It was a woman, probably the most decently dressed in this establishment (although the dress neckline cut much lower than Chelsea would dare wear in public). The bartender was scruffy like the rest, middle aged, and slightly on the podgy side. Though, despite having features that could be labelled as 'motherly', she still left Chelsea feeling rather intimidated.

The woman watched Chelsea with a sharp stare, not making a move to speak. It seemed she expected her to talk first.

"I-uh-Hello... I was- I came here to- I would like to-"

"Spit it out already. I haven't got the whole night to listen to you stutter."

"Work." Chelsea squeaked.

"Work, is it? We've only got one type of work here for your kind and you get into that by your own volition. Me and my husband have nothing to do with the prowlers who come here-Well," She snorted, "At least I don't."

"Prowlers?"

"Nannies, girl." The bartender drawled, her voice drenched in fictitious amusement.

"Nannies..." Chelsea lowered her voice to a hush, leaning towards the bartender conspiratorially, "You mean prostit-"

"Of course I mean prostitutes!" She all but bellowed, attracting the attention of nearby drunks who had previously been oblivious to Chelsea's presence. "Are you thick-minded, girl? Those who tease the flannel mouthed hobbadehoys or shuck off for the shotes- they are the prowlers."

Chelsea gaped at the woman, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing in shock as she tried to summon words, "...I-I understand that. I actually came here to enquire if you were in any need for someone who could provide entertainment. Singing, or dancing, or..."

"Look at them; do they look like they need entertainment to you?"

It did not take a sweeping glance across the saloon to answer the question, but Chelsea did anyway, taking a good look at the gambling, alcohol, women and those who abused its presence. Yes, they were entertained.

There was a certain understanding in the look the older woman gave her. A response was not needed.

Something pressed against her shoulder and Chelsea jumped. She looked to her side to find it was a hand there, with ruddy palms and calloused knuckles. She leapt away in surprise and span to face whoever had touched her.

"Mirabelle...she new?" The man was somewhat older than her, yet no where the age of the bartender (who was currently watching the man distastefully). He was clearly not sober- his words slurred and his movements sloppy. Chelsea did not find him the most menacing of the people here, yet there was no one here she found unintimidating. She would have rather remained unnoticed.

The bartender, or Mirabelle she presumed, spoke more frigidly now, "Why don't you ask her for yourself, Mr Lavenhar."

He turned his attention back on Chelsea. "You're new?" Mr Lavenhar asked, but before Chelsea had a chance to reply he carried on speaking in his drunken burr, "You remind me of her daughter," He jabbed a finger in Mirabelle's direction, "You got pretty faces, you girls. But she's off limits. No one's allowed near Julia, or else you'll chop their wang off, won't you Mirabelle?"

The bartender's answer came easily, "Certainly."

"You see!" The man staggered forwards to clap his hand against Chelsea's shoulder again. The farmer let out a small noise of fright at the contact. She didn't like him being so near. His breath reeked of liquor. "A cold-hearted bit, isn't she?"

His gaze met hers lazily yet there was a glint there, in his blue eyes. It was fixed, unwavering. Although her stomach churned uncomfortably, she maintained eye contact, searching, looking. _What vulgar thoughts run through his mind?_ This man was not like the men who came to Ol'Benny's. They were there for the dancing, the music, and the laughter. The men in The Dead Adder gathered for a different reason.

"You're not Julia though. You'll talk with me, won't you?"

Chelsea moved backwards, removing his hand. "That depends what kind of talking you have in mind, sir."

"There's lots of ways to talk," He gave a lopsided smile and then shoved a hand into his trouser's pocket, digging around for something. His expression brightened as he seemed to have found whatever he had been looking for. Grabbing Chelsea's hand, he dropped several coins into her palm. "There, now we can talk."

Chelsea stared at the money in her hand, appalled. She was even more so when Mr Lavenhar took up a bar stool and patted his lap. Summoning her for a petting, was he?

"Do not belittle me," Chelsea hissed, throwing the money back at the man. The coins bounced off his form and rolled, scattering across the grubby floor. "I will not be your 'nanny'. Find another. There are plenty here."

From the corner of her eye, Chelsea could swear she saw Mirabelle give her a strangely appreciative look. But she couldn't be sure. Her attention was focused elsewhere, especially since the man had now stood up, his posture stiff and angry. Chelsea didn't like this. She didn't like the way drunks were in this town. She didn't like that they were catching even more attention throughout the saloon.

"I paid you!" He cried angrily, tone accusing.

"And I gave you the money back." Chelsea snapped, turning swiftly to march out of the building, to leave, to escape, but something snagged on the back of her overalls.

"It fell on the floor. I'll never find it now." For a moment Chelsea was reminded of when Vaughn had thrown coins at her, but the memory was brief, for now, she was shouting as she tried to wrench herself from Mr Lavenhar's grip.

"Maybe if you were not so intoxicated you would have caught them!"

"Don't you dare-"

Mirabelle interrupted then, her voice prickly and loud. "If you would look at her clothes, Mr Lavenhar, you would realise she is not of the same ilk as the women around here. Now please let go of her."

"Why should I?" He grumbled. "She's not your Julia."

"But this is my saloon. I control what goes on in here."

Mr Lavenhar laughed then, and so did some of the other men. Chelsea couldn't understand the humour they found in the situation in the slightest. "It's not your saloon though. It's your husbands."

Mirabelle's hardened expression twitched, momentarily flashing something vulnerable. "That may be, but-

"But he's upstairs having his way with another woman?" There was a dopey old man, slumped over the bar, who cackled and hiccupped madly. However, everyone else had fallen silent at Mr Lavenhar's words. It was undoubtedly a taboo subject- quite rightly so.

In fact, he seemed rather stunned to have mentioned it. He probably would not have brought the matter up usually, but the demon drink always had a way of loosening tongues.

Chelsea decided to use his fleeting shock to her advantage. She whirled around, mouth ready, and sank her teeth into the flesh of his arm. He shouted out, instantly letting go of her. She darted away, back towards Mirabelle, a woman who had quickly won her trust despite seeming rather threatening in the beginning.

The silence stretched on, the only exception being Mr Lavenhar's quite hisses of pain. It was almost as if the people of the saloon were waiting for Mirabelle's response. Chelsea took a fleeting look at the middle aged woman. She saw how tense her face was, how her mouth was drawn into a thin line, her hands clutching the bar work top so hard she left nail grooves.

The quite was broken, but not by Mirabelle. The saloon doors burst open and in came someone Chelsea had been convinced she would never see again.

"Vaughn!" She cried delightedly, running towards him, ready to tell him how grateful she was for him to reconsider, to tell him she would gladly accompany him further.

However, at the livid look on his face, she stopped dead in her tracks just before him. He raised his right hand and in it was clutched a satchel. Her satchel.

She lunged for it, but Vaughn merely held it up higher. "Did you purposefully leave this on my wagon, Granger?" He growled out, shaking the bag.

Chelsea yelped at the mistreatment of her belongings. She leapt up and snatched the bag from his hands, cradling it close. "No, of course not. I would never leave this." A sudden thought struck her and she asked hurriedly, "You didn't look through it, did you?"

"No," He said tetchily, "Why? Is there something important in there?"

"It's just... It's all I've got left." She told him sombrely, carefully draping the bag over her shoulder.

Her words must have resonated with Vaughn in some way. It was the only explanation she could come up with for the faltering of his scowl.

"Hang on a minute," Mr Lavenhar began stumbling towards them, an ungainly hand raised, and mouth agape in preparation for intervention. "What's going on he-"

"A room for the couple then?" Mirabelle cut in breezily, using a chipper tone Chelsea would not have imagined her to have (especially not after Mr Lavenhar's scandalous remark). When Chelsea listened closely however, she realised that there was some breed of a challenge hidden in her cheer.

She had asked the question to Vaughn, which had brought about some amusing spluttering from the cowboy at the supposed 'indignity' of such a suggestion, yet Chelsea was sure the intended impact had been for Mr Lavenhar.

"Couple?" He croaked. His gaze swept over Chelsea and then to Vaughn, turning slightly fearful upon seeing the gun slung across his back. "See here, I didn't know about that. You should have told me, Miss. I would've-would've been more- Well, I wouldn't have- Uh, so, no problems here, right?"

Vaughn looked like he had half a mind to argue against the relationship status Mirabelle had imposed on them, but after seeing the bartender's meaningful glare, he gritted his teeth and practically spat out, "No. No problems."

* * *

**Oh man, I feel so bad. I'm really sorry for updating. School has been a bit of a pain but its nearly the holidays so hopefully I can update soon again. Thank you for sticking with this story so far everyone!**

**And as a side note- guess who it is? Mirabelle! I feel kind'a sad for the situation I've put her in (even though she's a fictional character).**

**Shote- Worthless man.**

**Shuck off- Take clothes off.**

**Hobbadehoy- A youth who has ceased to regard himself as a boy, and is not yet regarded as a man.**

**Flannel mouthed- Overly smooth, or fancy talker.**

**Nanny- Prostitute.**


	8. We Don't Just Mourn the Fallen

**~A Lick and a Promise~**

**We Don't Just Mourn the Fallen**

* * *

The click resonated throughout the quiet room, the din from downstairs muffled somewhat. Chelsea turned away from the rickety door she had shut with a sheepish expression.

Vaughn sat on the bed, a growing glower on his face. "I think I deserve an explanation, _wife_." He spat out the last word like it was dirt on his tongue. Chelsea didn't know whether to be amused or offended.

"Well, _husband_," Vaughn's frown deepened. "I could not help what happened out there. I don't care to think what that man would have done if you hadn't of come about when you did. And, you know, for that I thank you. Thank you very much, Vaughn. But honestly would it kill you to spare just a bit more kindness, just a little."

"It might just kill me." He said sourly and in a mocking, almost patronizing tone, continued, "Remember those mercenaries?"

His arrogance tugged on the bitterness within her. She spoke in a hiss, now standing over Vaughn in a show of hostility. "I couldn't forget them if I tried." Men such as those should not be brought up so lightly. She did not take kindly to it.

"They are blood-lusting killers, in it for the money... and for the gore. For what they did-to Will-to me-!" Chelsea stopped, closed her eyes, and sucked in a shaky breath. "I don't care for your overbearing, derisive gripe. So please, in the future, keep it to yourself."

They were staring each other down, neither shifting, dour eyed and tight-lipped. Vaughn was the first to look away. Chelsea heaved a heavy sigh. She didn't want this unfriendliness. She had never liked arguments, but distinct from someone like Molly she didn't go all out to prevent them. She would be spurred into conflict if she felt the need to defend herself. However she was not quite at Angela's level of argumentativeness, who would often take any opportunity she could to poke fun or have a brawl. Chelsea's eyes began to sting as she thought of her friends. She had been prepared for the fact she might have to leave them someday, so she wondered why it hurt so much to be parted from them now.

She crossed the room and sat down on the other side of the bed, her back facing Vaughn's. She wasn't going to look at him teary eyed. She was the type to hate showing weakness after all, or moreover, she had been forced into being that type.

The quiet was unbearable. It made Chelsea self-conscious of her every sound, every sniff and every breath. She wanted to morn a lost lifestyle, the second lifestyle she had lost within a year. She struggled to do that in such a thick silence. It almost made her glad for Vaughn to break it, if it wasn't for the topic of choice.

"That man who died, the one on the road-"

"Will." Chelsea interrupted. He was not just a man who died on the road. He was Will.

"Yes, Will." She felt Vaughn was being more tentative now, with his words, with his tone. Though it could have been her mind playing tricks on her. "Did you know him well?"

"No, not well enough. I should have known him better."

They fell into silence again. Vaughn needn't hear no more. He knew her desire better than most. The weary hush hung over them for the rest the night, long after they had awkwardly shuffled under the covers together, laying stiffly side by side in dirtied daywear, the only other signs of life in the world coming from the bar's stifled rowdiness permeating their walls. If there had been a settee maybe one of them could have slept there. Not that either of them were sleeping. Their eyes remained wide and seeing for some time into the night; sleep was hard to find for the both of them as they reflected and thought grim thoughts.

Chelsea had turned onto her side some time ago, facing away from Vaughn, her eyes to the moonlight streaming in through the window. She felt him shift under the sheets. "Vaughn?"

He didn't reply but she knew he was wide-awake. "I'm going to be travelling with you for a while, okay?"

Still no reply. Maybe he was ignoring her. For now, it didn't matter. She would follow him anyway, no matter what his opinion was. She had realised she needed some form of familiarity for the sake of her sanity, be it a surly, cynical form of familiarity. She didn't cope well with loneliness.

* * *

**It's quite short but all I can manage for now. Hope you liked it.**


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